


I promise, I'll do better

by spiderboyneedsahug



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Adopt Peter already, All the Avengers are about to become over-protective parents to one (1) spider boi, Hurt Peter Parker, Iron Dad, Mama Spider, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha is about to become Mama Spider to Peter, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Prompt Fic, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Tony Stark, Shared custody with May?? idk, She got feelings too and she gon protect the spider baby, She's joining the Peter Parker protection squad, Team as Family, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Tony Stark is such a DAD jesus he should just., Why does everything I write degenerate into sappy team as family goop, dad tony, hhhhHHHHH, no beta we die like men, spider son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 02:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14583456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderboyneedsahug/pseuds/spiderboyneedsahug
Summary: “Dad…?”The voice is weak, hoarse, and it only just comes through the crackling static of his comms. Tony’s heart lurches in his chest, then plummets to the floor.Because that’s Peter’s voice. That’s Peter’s terrified voice coming through the comms.





	I promise, I'll do better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Buckets_Of_Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckets_Of_Stars/gifts).



> Hey there! This is a prompt fill for Buckets_Of_Stars that I was all too happy to fill!
> 
> Original prompt:  
> yesssssss okay can you write a fic where Pete is already tony's kid (like its acknowledged by both of them and Peter calls Tony "Dad") and while on patrol gets trapped in a small space (like a burning house or something) and has to call Tony to help him? and Tony is like freaking the freak out because his kid is crying and scared and he is all the way across the country (for like a meeting or something) and the suit takes a while to get there so he has to try to comfort his hysterical child.
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH IM SO EXITED AHHHH YOU'RE THE BEST!:D
> 
> (bonus points if Tony sings to Peter because RDJ's voice is heavenly XD)
> 
> This just ticked all the boxes for a fic I would write! Thank you for pushing me to do it!!

As pretty as it is, the snow that is slowly starting to fall is... annoying. As hell. Because it while it looks neat now, in about five minutes he’s gonna start feeling it through the armour, and then he’ll have to waste power keeping warm.

 

Not to mention the large group of non-armoured Avengers below him will feel the cold more than he will. It’s gonna _suck_ for them.

 

There had been an… incident… real far up north. As in, on the outskirts of Northern _Canada_ up north. Just another megalomaniacal crazy dude trying to take over the world with an army of robots, apparently. It had just been enough to require the assistance of Steve’s rogue team of supers, and while Tony had definitely been relieved to actually see his frenemy show up, it had still been tense. Barnes wasn’t there, to which Tony was eternally thankful. He had taken his time, forgiven the other man even, but the wound was still too raw. Tony and Steve had even had a few minutes just to talk a little, brief the two halves of the group on what they were working with before the first few drones started their approach.

 

They still work together well. Amazingly, even. For a brief time, both halves of the divided Avengers had functioned in complete harmony with one another, and it made easy work of the small army they faced. They had to take the fight out of the town and into the desolate land surrounding it, but it was still easy work with all the extra hands.

And that had left the group trying to clean up as best as they would before the appropriate authorities showed up to collect the trash. Being spread among so many hands makes the work easy, scattered robotic limbs piling up in one place next to the unconscious and bound up psychopath. He can hear light chatter and laughter as the groups work in tandem to clean up the mess. Natasha and Clint joke around like no time has passed since they last saw each other, naturally on the same page immediately. Wanda and Vision are still dancing around each other, awkward and slow, but they’re doing their part in the clean up.

 

It’s really nice to hear everyone together again. Feels like old times.

 

Tony lets the armour fall to the ground and lands heavily, the sharp metallic _clang_ of it ringing out throughout the area. He can hear a couple of annoyed groans through the comms, all whining about his theatrics (what theatrics? It was just a normal entrance?), which pulls a genuinely amused laugh from him. He scoops up destroyed robotic limbs and tosses them onto the growing pile. It’s a waste of good resources. Maybe he can talk to someone, take them for scrap. It’s not like they’re being used.

“I’m not being theatrical at _all_. You guys know how much force this makes? Suit’s not light.” He somehow manages to sound both amused and offended at the same time. He can see nearly half the Avengers rolling their eyes, can hear even more of them groaning good-naturedly.

He hears a snort that’s definitely from Clint, “Sure you’re not, Stark. And Wanda’s a magician.”

“There is snow on the branch above you. I wonder if you can dodge that.” Wanda states, voice empty of any telling emotion. Her hands are poised to make the snow fall on Clint.

“He’ll throw out his back dodging that, Wanda. He’s getting old.” He can hear Natasha snort loudly at the comment, Clint’s loud displeased noise quickly drowning her laughter out.

“I’m not the one hiding his ass under a suit of armour, Stark.”

He’s about to snap off a sharp response when his comm crackles — his private comm, the one he saves for Pepper, Rhodey, Happy and Peter — loudly.

 

He freezes in his tracks.

 

The comm crackles again and Tony can hear noises. Distant roaring. Loud, invasive sounds.

_“Dad…?”_

The voice is weak, hoarse, and it only just comes through over the static of his comms. Tony’s heart lurches in his chest, then plummets to the floor.

Because that’s Peter’s voice. That’s Peter’s terrified voice coming through the comms.

 

“Tony. What’s wrong?” And that’s Steve, that’s Steve’s voice reaching him through the sudden haze in his mind. The world snaps back into motion, a high pitch screeching in his ears, and there’s only one goal in his mind. _Get to Peter._

“Tony.” Steve’s deep, smooth voice only just manages to get through the haze of panic Tony is descending into. Tony turns to face Steve and catches the flicker of concern shown in the blue-green eyes at his own desperation.

“Shit. I have to go.”

“Shirking, Stark?” Natasha’s snide comment is cut short by the look on Tony’s face. He knows she’s probably never seen this expression on his face before, which is probably why she silences.

“I have to go. I need to- I have to help him.”

“We’ve got this, Tony. We can take care of this.” He doesn’t know who’s speaking, but he’s already in the air, repulsors whining as he takes to the skies.

“Peter. Peter! Spider-Man, can you hear me?” The fear in his voice definitely shows. He’s never been too good at the whole ‘feelings’ thing, but being Peter’s official pseudo-father figure is a full time job and he is _never given a goddamn break._

 

The comm crackles again, _“D-Dad. Help.”_ Peter’s voice sounds strained, hurt, and Tony still can’t figure out what is making all the noise in the background.

“Peter, what’s wrong?! Where are you?!”

 _“I can’t… I can’t breathe. Please… help me.”_ Peter’s small, scared voice bursts back to life over the static of the comms. This must be what being stabbed in the heart feels like. It burns and hurts and the pain just keeps getting stronger, even as he pushes the suit to its limits. The resounding _crack_ through the skies is the only indication that he’s travelling at supersonic speeds. The determination to get to Peter doesn’t lessen at all, even as the scenery of Canada fades into a blur before him.

“Peter, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what I’ve gotta help with.”

 _“Building. Fire. Hurts… can’t breathe.”_ Tony winces then scowls. Trapped under a building? Like with Toomes… And the fire. He’s gotta get to Peter quick, before the smoke inhalation does.

 

With an upset noise, Tony forces the suit to travel just that little bit faster. He’s already pushing mach 2, travelling at speeds that would definitely be impossible for a jet, but he doesn’t care. He’s got a smaller surface area and a higher energy output than a jet, of course he can go faster. He has to get to Peter.

“Kid, keep talking. Stay with me.”

_“I’m tired, dad. I wanna go to sleep.”_

“Don’t do that, Pete. We’ll binge-watch your favourite stuff when I get you home, okay? Anything you want. You can eat junk food and we’ll have May over at the compound for dinner, it’ll be great. But you just gotta stay awake, okay?”

 _“Okay, Mr. Stark. Can- Can I have Ned over? We gotta finish the LEGO death star. He keeps dr- he keeps dropping it.”_ Peter hasn’t called him ‘Mr. Stark’ in a while now. It’s always either ‘dad’ or ‘Tony’, so that alone is a huge indicator to how bad the situation truly is.

“Yeah, sure! Anything you want, kid.” He can hear a pleased noise over the comms, then a series of sharp coughs.

“Are you trapped? Can you get out of where you are?” A sharp cry rings out over the comms. A hot burst of pain explodes in Tony’s chest at the sound. He can hear rubble shifting and a strained groan, then quiet wheezing.

_“No… I’m stuck. Can’t move.”_

“Okay- ok. Hold on kid, I’m coming. I’m coming. I’ll be there soon, just hold on.”

It’s been half an hour. Half an hour since Peter first called him, half an hour that he’s been soaring over the now-US skies, half an hour that Peter’s been pinned in a burning building. Too goddamn long.

 

 _“I don’t wanna die, dad.”_ Tony yelps and pushes the suit to its limits. FRIDAY is nearly shouting at him, red marks on the display telling him to _‘slow down, you’re travelling too fast to be safe, boss! You’re going to compromise the suit if you keep going-’_

 

He doesn’t slow down.

 

He can’t let his kid die.

 

“You’re gonna be fine, you’ll be fine, I promise. Just stay awake for a little bit longer, stay with me Peter.”

 _“I feel sick. There’s- there’s too much smoke. I can’t breathe-”_ Peter’s hoarse voice cracks, fading into harsh coughs and sticky sounding breaths.

 _“I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe-”_ More coughing, followed by wheezing and a quiet sputter, _“I can’t breathe. It’s so dark.”_

“H-Hey, Peter. Come on, I’m a few minutes out. Stay awake. Come on kid, I know you’ve got it in you.”

 _“I don’t wanna be here, dad. I wanna go home.”_ The corners of Tony’s eyes prickle with unshed tears. The fact that Peter thinks the Compound is a second home makes him emotional enough, but with the lingering threat that the building poses looming over Peter, Tony can’t help but let out a high-pitched noise from the stress. They haven’t gotten this far- Peter hasn’t gotten this far to die in a building fire.

“We’ll get you home, kid. You’ll come home, I promise you.”

 

“NYC approaching, ETA 14 minutes.” FRIDAY is entirely too calm for Tony’s liking, completely contradictory to the burning, searing flame of panic that’s welling up in his chest. The alarms on the suit are still red but the shrill noises have stopped. It’s quiet.

 

While the comm link between him and Peter is more secure now, no more static crackling, it means he can hear all the small, terrified noises that Peter keeps making. They’re hoarse, scratchy, as if Peter has been inhaling sand paper. It must feel like it.

 

_“I don’t wanna go, dad. I’m scared. Help me-”_

“Peter- I can- I can see the building. I’m here. I’m gonna help you, okay?” Tony just pushes the last kilometre, armour heavily falling to the ground with the same metallic clang from earlier on.

 

The flames have licked and crawled up the lower half of the apartment complex, heavy black smoke rising from the rest of it. Some areas are collapsed; an indication of the severity of the structural damages to the building. The screams and cries of distressed locals have quieted slightly upon seeing him appear.

 

Then everything bursts back to life, and people are reaching for him and crying, begging him to save their loved ones quickly. There’s a nauseous feeling rising up in his chest, protesting. He has his own loved one to save from the fire-

 

 _“S-Save everyone else, Tony. I’ll be fine.”_ He wants to curse. Of course, of _course_ Peter would want everyone else saved and safe before he gets out of the building. But Peter’s voice is small; scared and uncertain, and it’s obvious to Tony that Peter is still scared despite his heroic decision.

“Kid-”

 _“No!”_ Peter’s hoarse voice cracks. Tony can hear Peter’s pitiful attempt to clear out his throat, _“I didn’t save everyone. Please. G-Get them out… Please.”_ Tony curses whoever created Peter’s incredible selflessness and massive guilt complex. Recipe for disaster.

 

With a final, loud swear, Tony walks through the flames.

 

He’s thankful that the suit purifies the air he’s breathing, because it’s mostly tar-black smoke and firey air that would hurt anyone else. He has to hurry.

“FRIDAY, scan building for signs of life.”

 _‘There is a life form about 11 yards to your left, boss.’_ FRIDAY informs him, and with a steady sense of determination, Tony gently lifts fallen rubble and debris that obstructs his path. The further he walks, the louder the coughing becomes. There’s a small kid, maybe 11, hidden in some small nook. They’re pale, scared, and Tony doesn’t hesitate to reach a hand out to them. Hesitant, they take it, and Tony lifts them onto his shoulders — he has to keep them above the flames.

“Hold on, kid.”

He has to repeat this process three more times, and each time lowers the chances of Peter’s survival. He winces at the brutal, clinical nature of the thought, but the black smoke is so thick it looks like water now so yeah, he knows the threat to Peter’s health is very real.

“Peter, you still with me?”

There’s no response, and that scares the shit out of Tony.

He’s back inside the building before he can register that he’s becoming hysterical. Tony runs through a couple of breathing exercises as he hovers above the flames, revelling in the manufactured calm in his chest. It’s better than hyperventilating — he’s no good to Peter unconscious.

“FRIDAY, scan for a profile that matches Pe- Spider-Man’s.”

 _‘One life form found, on the second floor. Appears to be in respiratory distress.’_ Tony’s heart does a weird thing in his chest, a sensation that’s a cross between stopping and beating way too fast, and he flies through a burnt hole in the ceiling.

There’s rubble everywhere. His gut tells him to move forward, towards the huge collapsed mess of metal bearing poles, rubble and long, drooping wires. Ideally, Peter isn’t underneath it and is safe somewhere else. That’s not the truth and he knows it through, especially when FRIDAY reaffirms his dreads with a quiet, _‘The DNA signature of Spider-Man matches the DNA signature of the person under the rubble, boss. Vitals are worsening. Time is of the essence.’_

With a brief burst from the boot jets, he’s scrabbling at the rubble, metal gauntlets tearing away at unstable concrete. He has to use the heat of his repulsor blasts to weaken the collapsed beams of metal before he can rip them away too. Wires still spark threateningly and fires roar around him. He doesn’t let it slow him down.

His heart stops and his chest grows cold when he sees the arm of Peter’s suit, hand limp and fingers curled inwards. He reaches out and snags the limb, rubbing Peter’s palm in a manner that he hopes is reassuring.

“Peter? Can you hear me?”

“D...Dad?”

“Yeah kid, it’s me. I need you to tell me if there’s any debris on or near you, okay? I don’t want to move something and hurt you.”

“My leg… pinned. Broken?” The slight lilt at the end of Peter’s slurred speech makes it sound like more of a suggestion than a statement. Tony keeps rubbing Peter’s hand, making little noises of reassurance.

“I’ll get this all off of you, nice and quick, okay? But you need to tell me if you start hurting while I work.”

“O-Okay, Mr. Stark.” He’s ever-conscious of the thick plumes of smoke that are still rising from the ground as he works, punching through large concrete slabs with ease and tossing them to the side. The crooked metal is slightly harder to maneuver around; he has to use the one-time use lasers to cut through it instead of using his repulsors because he’s all-too aware that the heat isn’t focused enough to do the job without compromising the rest of the structure. He’s just about able to see more of Peter when-

“Wha’s happenin’? Where am I…?”

_Shit._

“It’s okay Peter, I’m here. Just keep calm, I’ll have you out real quick, just stay there.”

“It’s dark. I- I can’t breathe.” The kid’s breath hitches slightly before fading into a series of punishing coughs, wet and rattling. Jesus, he has to hurry.

He tosses the last piece of rubble away and looks down to see-

 _Oh_.

Peter is… small, put simply. _Tiny_. The second Tony removed the last piece of rubble surrounding him was apparently the same second the kid curled up into a tiny ball, hugging his leg to his chest for comfort while the other lay useless. Tony can hear the choked-sounding wheezes rattling from Peter’s chest from where he is. There’s soot and ash all over him, brown hair dyed a dirty gray. His useless leg is a telling shade of dark crimson, not the normal red of the suit at all. And the mask of the suit lays discarded next to Peter’s hand, revealing hazy brown eyes, a pale face and blue-tinged lips. It’s a horrifying sight.

He drops to the floor as carefully as he can before softly speaking, “Peter?”

The response he gets is in the form of more coughing and convulsive shaking as Peter’s eyes slip shut, eyebrows furrowing. Tony’s heart slams to a halt in his chest, cold and heavy fear settling quickly into his lungs like a sheet of ice. Without a second thought, Tony scoops up the kid into his arms and fires a repulsor blast at the closest window. Peter’s fingers don’t stick even a little or move as they rest limply on his stomach, ruined leg slowly swaying from the disturbance of being moved. It’s awkward, but Tony does lean back to pick up the mask, gently working it to cover Peter’s upper face while leaving his mouth and nose exposed. Kid has to be free to breathe, but Tony isn’t going to expose his identity to the public just because he’s unconscious.

 

He can see Peter’s expression scrunch up a little at the sudden exposure to the bright sunlight outside of the building, but he doesn’t really move aside from that. Hell, the kid’s chest hardly moves up or down, the ragged wheezes he’s becoming alarmingly familiar with nearly absent. _Hardly breathing. Crap._

 

He can’t figure out why he isn’t out of his mind with panic yet. His chest is tight with anxiety and his body is cold and shaky, but his mind is still weirdly clear and he _knows_ what he has to do.

 

But it’s a good thing there are ambulances already present, tending to the injured, because right about now Tony really needs an oxygen mask before he takes the kid back to the compound. The crowds part as he drops to the ground, cracking the concrete, and walks towards the most empty looking ambulance. There are concerned mutterings as families and children point at Spider-Man, unconscious in Iron Man’s arms. _Must make quite the view_ , he thinks grimly.

Peter still hasn’t shifted as Tony tries to approach as quickly and smoothly as possible. He doesn’t move as a deeply worried looking paramedic straps the oxygen mask to his face and hands off the oxygen tank to Tony. He doesn’t move as Tony starts the flight back to the compound.

 

It’s been nearly two and a half hours since Peter initially called Tony. That’s more than enough time for whichever Avengers decide to return the compound to be just about back from the fight. A small, nagging part of him is concerned that Steve’s rogue group will come back too, but when he thinks more about it, he doesn’t mind it quite as much. It’ll be nice to have more company back at the compound.

Peter doesn’t wake up the whole journey back. His breaths still shudder and sound choked as they did in the building, but he twitches more often than he did.

Helen Cho is already waiting for them when they arrive, expression carefully held blank. Tony can still read the faintest signs of upset in her eyes — much like the rest of the people working in the compound, she has a soft spot for Peter. He hands Peter off to her gently, trying to ensure that the unconscious child stays as comfortable as he can be. The oxygen mask doesn’t come off.

"Take care of him."

"I always do, Tony."

 

Well, she hasn't let anyone down before.

 

* * *

 

As soon as he's given the go-ahead, Tony is in Peter's room on one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs, trying to not check up on Peter every five seconds. Logically, he knows Peter is fine. They didn't even need to pull him into surgery, they only had to set his leg and keep the oxygen mask on while his body does the rest. That doesn't stop the urge to check from building up, reaching the point of becoming unbearable every few minutes or so.

 

The sun is starting to set, casting a pleasant orange light into the pristine white room. It's nice, atmospheric. Some of Peter's music plays softly in the room, banishing the silence effectively. The kid's playlist is dotted with easy on the ears instrumentals. It's probably because Peter's hearing is too sensitive on most days for louder music, so Tony chose one of the quieter songs. It's pleasant. Soothing.

 

Tony absently taps at his Stark Pad, aimlessly wandering around old message conversations and social media tabs. His eyes catch the recent conversation he had with May regarding why Peter wasn't at home all of a sudden. He had told May that he was just stealing Peter for a few days while school was out, under the pretenses of working for the internship again. May had taken it well, only telling Tony with unnecessary force to make sure Peter ate enough while he was there. Which he will. The kid's not running himself ragged under his watch.

 

He looks over to where the kid is sleeping. He looks a lot better than he did in the building now. His face is no longer ghostly pale but a healthy tan, lips back to their normal colour instead of blue. For the lighting in the room, Peter could just be sleeping. The only thing disrupting Peter's peaceful appearance is the oxygen mask that he still wears — Helen said it was a precaution, just to make sure Peter has plenty of oxygen available while he recovers.

 

Turns out, Tony’s gut instinct was right. About fifteen minutes after he dropped Peter off with Cho at medical, the quinjet had returned, carrying not only the Avengers who left for the mission on it but Steve’s group also. Tony had wearily greeted them back to what he heard Steve call their home. Natasha had dragged him by the arm to join the group. It was… awkward at first. The conversation had felt forced for the first few minutes, but after a few jokes from Clint and sarcastic responses from Wanda, Tony couldn’t help but relax into the chatter.

 

Then Cho told him Peter was out (he didn’t miss the very confused looks on the other Avengers’ faces at Peter’s name. He forgets that they don’t know the kid) and he shot out of the room, leaving a very confused Natasha behind. He kind of feels bad for ditching her, but Peter was a little higher on his list of priorities.

 

But yeah. Peter is sleeping, he saved a burning building full of innocents. Tony leans over and affectionately ruffles the kid’s hair. When did he do something good enough to get stuck with such a pure-hearted kid? He turns back to his Stark Pad to work, but makes sure to snag Peter’s hand and gently rub it soothingly. Kid might be asleep, but a little bit of reassurance never goes amiss.

 

“You a dad now, Stark?” Comes the smooth, amused voice of Natasha Romanov from the doorway. Tony sighs. He should have known that she would follow him.

“Nope,” He pops the ‘p’, “At least not biologically.”

 

It was a while back that Tony and Peter came to the mutual agreement that it was much easier to just address each other by what first came to mind. Tony had been glowing with warmth when Peter first called Tony ‘dad’ without turning beet red or trying to web-sling back to his apartment, hell, he’d even hugged the kid. And Tony has always called Peter ‘kid’ but now it’s more sentimental. Maybe even more literal. The kid means a lot to him, so he might as well be family.

 

Natasha takes up a contemplative expression, “Adopted?”

“No. Would you believe me if I told you he’s my intern?” Tony knows Natasha doubts this severely. Why would any ‘intern’ of his be hospitalised?

“You take interns now? I thought you said they were annoying and ‘got under your feet’?” Tony scoffs a laugh. The kids who had applied before Peter were constantly fawning over everything. Whatever intelligence they had was lost under their inability to focus.

“Yeah, well this one’s a genius who doesn’t actually… care about impressing me anymore. Damn kid got under my skin.” Tony smiles a little, rubbing Peter’s hand again. It’s the kid’s big, earnest eyes and endearing sense of self that makes Tony so damn paternal.

She hums, “He must be a great kid.” Tony nods.

“Thanks, lady…” Comes Peter’s hoarse voice. It comes out as a whisper, muffled by the oxygen mask, but it’s audible nonetheless. Tony whirls around to face Peter, Natasha momentarily forgotten. The kid’s eyes open slowly, still a little dazed, but they show that the kid is regaining his awareness quickly.

“Morning, kid. How you feeling?”

Peter hums and tilts his head back into the pillows, “Ugh. Who’d I fight? A fire?”

“Close enough, kid. Close enough. You did good though, you got them out.” Peter’s posture relaxes slightly as he sluggishly pulls the oxygen mask from his face. Natasha grabs Tony’s arm and turns him to face her harshly.

“This is the Spider Guy you took with us to fight Steve?!” Her voice is hushed but harsh, careful to not disturb the still-groggy kid on the hospital bed. He blinks. She figured it out _that_ quick?

“How do you-“

“Don’t bullshit me, Tony. It makes perfect sense. What were you thinking, bringing a _child_ to fight Captain America?!” There’s a mildly offended noise from Peter’s bed.

“M’not a child. I’m fifteen. And I can handle myself.”

“Tony. Children shouldn’t fight wars.” Tony winces at the reminder of Natasha’s vague and terrible past. He doesn’t know a lot of it, but… it makes sense that she would become so defensive of Peter.

“I wanted to go! Don’t blame him.” Peter’s voice, still dry from the smoke, cracks a little as he yells. A small, endearing flush comes to Peter’s face.

 

Natasha sighs, clearly swallowing the urge to continue the argument, but a single pleading look from Peter manages to quell the approaching verbal battle. She looks over to Peter, expression appraising, before she holds out her hand.

“I’m Natasha Romanov. Also known as the Black Widow.”

“Hah. Another spider. I’m Peter. Uh, Peter Parker. I’m Spider-Man. But you figured that one out already.”

“I did. Didn’t see that coming though. You’re good at keeping secrets.” That’s high praise coming from Natasha. Tony doesn’t miss the way Peter's eyes light up in excitement, and he definitely doesn’t miss the small smile on Nat’s face.

“Uh, thanks? You’re not gonna tell SHIELD or whoever it is you work for, right? I don’t want that.”

“I’ll keep your secret, Peter. Try to get some rest while you’re here, though.”

Peter snorts, a small giggle escaping him, “Why does every adult mother-hen me? You're like- like- like a mama spider.”

 

Tony doesn’t miss the way Nat flinches as if struck. She seems to struggle with something before relaxing a little, looking at Peter distantly but affectionately.

“Go to sleep, Spider-Baby, or your Irondad is going to blow a fuse.” The room goes quiet.

 

Then Peter bursts out laughing. Tony tries his best to look affronted, managing the look for all of a few seconds before chuckling as well. Natasha slinks over and ruffles Peter's hair like Tony would, smirking a little as Peter shrieks in horror at his already messy hair being disturbed more. 

"I have to get back to the other guys now."

"Alright. See you later, Natasha."

"See ya later, Mama Spider!" Peter yells with a grin. Tony thinks he catches a rare, full smile on Natasha's face before she turns down the halls, footsteps echoing around the halls. Tony distantly hopes that Peter can spend more time with the Avengers group. The kid would be (literally) bouncing off the walls.

"She seems nice." Tony snorts and sits back in his chair.

"She likes you." Peter hums and settles into his bed again. The kid is obviously tired, understandably, so Tony dials down the lights in the room.

"Thanks, dad. G'night." Tony smiles tiredly and grabs Peter's hand. This time, the kid's fingers curl around his own in kind.

"Night, kid. Sleep tight."

 

Tony falls asleep with Peter's hand in his own, his estranged family just downstairs and a pervading sense of calm descending on him. 

 

It's nice to have his family all in one place.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave prompts in the comments below! I'll take them up and write them out ASAP!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


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